There were few things more lovely than a direct woman. He almost wanted to laugh, grin with a kind of giddy sense of anticipation and relief, at Sookie unbuttoning his shirt and leading them towards the bed. But Sookie was unbuttoning his shirt and leading them towards the bed, which wasn't really funny at all. Neither was that little noise she made, the one which made his hand slide lower to the curve of her arse, the light fabric bunching up under his grasping fingers.

He followed as easily as ever, the part of his brain that made decisions slowly shutting off. The real decision -- whether or not he was ready for this -- had sorted itself out already, influenced by the natural reactions of his body. Whether Sookie was ready was her decision, not something he would make for her or question her on. Letting go of her hand, Mitchell grabbed another handful of her dress, tugging it up further, the hem now skirting somewhere along her hips.